Saturday, August 15, 2009

Farewell Farrah. God speed Michael.

I'm late with this...but I looked it over and thought I would post anyway. In case you were wondering. Food is not good. Not at all. Anyway... read away!

70’s icon Farrah Fawcett died after a long and difficult battle with cancer.

Music icon Michael Jackson died after a long a difficult battle with life.

It’s sad isn’t it? Farrah had friends and family who loved her and watched her suffer. They are no doubt going through a very difficult time. She was a mom, a daughter, a best friend and a life partner. She was beautiful and talented and seemed to epitomize this one period of time. When you think back to the 70’s Charlie's Angels is one of the things that you remember. Charlie’s Angles, Saturday Night Fever, Disco, and the beginning of the fitness craze. Farrah Fawcett had that hair and that amazing smile, she also had atomic nipples… (Which I never noticed until she died and people kept pointing it out)

Michael Jackson. What can one say about Mike? Icon. Superstar. Musical genius. Weirdo. Recluse. Freak. Songwriter. Entertainer. Father. Brother. Son. Friend. I remember being enamored of MJ. I had buttons. I had posters. I had records and tapes. I thought he was amazing. Keeping in mind that I didn’t know MJ, I probably knew more about him than I should know. Like what? Like his birthday, his favorite candy, where he was born etc. I knew all these things about him, with out the benefit of the Internet. This means that I went to the Library and took about books about MJ. This means that I purchased magazines about MJ. I made knowing about him my job. Then of course, I grew up and found other things to obsess about. Boys that I could actually meet and have a chance with. Other musicians. My nails. My hair. Myself.

So yes, it is sad that Fawcett and Jackson are gone. And I feel badly, in the most general way. Like oh wow, that’s messed up. But this display of raw emotion is beyond me. The people who are sitting Shiva, the people who are in mourning over two celebrities that they have never met. I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t get it. I don’t get it and I think it’s weird. I mean, why should I, go the Apollo theater and stand there. Holding vigil. What for? Why should I make special trip and go to Fawcett’s name on the Hollywood walk of fame and leave flowers by her name? What for? I’m sorry, did I know you? Where we friends? Did we have anything in common? No? Ok then… sorry that you are gone and God speed and all that, but I have laundry to do. Places to go. And my life to take care of. Does this make me terrible person? I feel a little guilty. Like maybe I should feel worse. This is actually something that I struggle with. Feeling badly, because I think that I should feel worse. (I’m catholic, I’m Haitian, and I’m a girl)

This crosses my mind everytime a celebrity dies. A celebrity. Not a relative. Not a world leader. Not a neighbor. Someone who entertained for a living. This is not to say that their life was not a worthwhile life. This is to point out that that sense of loss might be a little misplaced.

Should Ryan O’Neil be inconsolable? Yes. Why? He was her partner. They were together for 30 years. Of course his loss is beyond words.

Should the children of Michael Jackson be devastated? Of course. Why? Umm he was their DAD.

Should Pete Robertson (random guy I made up) of Brooklyn, NY who never met Mr. Jackson or Ms. Fawcett be weeping inconsolably? Ummm from my perspective? No.

But, who I am I to say what is appropriate or not in a case like this? Maybe I should be more understanding. Maybe I should be less Jugie McJugerson.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Looking Gooooooooooood!

Looking Good!

I know that I am dating myself, but when I was a kid, there was this show Chico and The Man [Chico was portrayed by Freddie Prinze, whose son is Freddie Prinze, Jr.] I don’t remember a whole lot of that show, I was two when it started and six when it went of the air, but what I do remember, besides the fact that it took place in a garage and the Chico lived in a Van in that Garage, especially was the catch phrase. “Looking Goooood!”

I saw this woman today on the subway and she was really Looking Goooood! Really pretty wrap-around dress, Dolce & Gabbana tote, Gucci accessories in said tote, [yeah I peeked] Louis Vuitton sunglasses perched on her head and tasteful diamond studs in her ears. [ I pratically have a fetish for sun glasses] She was wearing Fit Flops but you know that she had the right shoes some where in her tote, or under her desk. You can tell that she had been away recently; maybe today was her first day back, as she had a great tan. I wonder if what she would think if she knew that had taken such an inventory of what she had on this morning. Would she be proud? Scared [That I was a crazy stalker] Is she one of those woman who style comes together with out effort? Or does she work hard at it?

What does it mean to look good? Does it mean that you are a trendy up to date person? Or does it mean that you are a classic dresser? Does looking good just mean neat and clean? I remember working with someone who thought that clothes were silly, or I guess that fashion was silly. I was horrified. While I am no Miranda Priestly or Anna Wintour [I don’t have the time nor the budget] I try really hard to look nice everyday. I love fashion, clothes, makeup and accessories. Ever since I got the BC I have become obsessed with big giant earrings. I’ve always been a shoe person and bags are just pretty! I am a dedicated reader of Vogue and magazines, I’m considering adding Bazaar Magazine as well. I like to think that I do a decent job of looking good. Actually I think I must. I get compliments often. Someone once told me that she looks forward to seeing what I have on everyday. That is gratifying. I remember when Love Of My Life (LOML) a/k/a That Guy (TG) looked at me once and said, "I love the way you dress. You dress your ass off.” You will get to know him later I’m sure, but this meant a lot to me coming from him, a man of very few words. Older Guy with Gay Tendencies (OGWGT) is always complimenting me, “Girl you got style”. In my minds eye I can imagine the type of clothes that I would wear if I was a thinner person. I think I would be Classic-Bohemian-Sophisticated Chic with a nod towards Ethnic-Funkiness in the accessories department. I would wear hats, and big giant rings. I’d be tattoed and pierced!

As a person who is overweight, I don’t think that I have the luxury of looking like a slob. There are days when I wish that I could just put on ratty t-shirt and sweatpants and go out to do what ever it is that I need to do. I see those women on the street sometimes and think I wish I could do it too. Just toss on anything and not give it a second thought. And they seem to make it work. But no I don’t have that luxury. There is nothing worse than a fat person who is not well put together, slovenly looking, or just looking like they have totally given up. So fat or not. I will continue to “dress my ass off”.

How it went down today:
Social Today: There is a plan of dinner in the park with a friend.
Mood Today: Good.
Food Today: Ok I think.
Menu Today:

1 cup of Raisin Bran;
½ cup of 2% milk;
Coffee, drop of light cream and some 2%milk and 2 Splendas
½ chicken wrap with lettuce and tomato;
1cup of chicken noodle soup
No clue. (I know I know I'm working on it!)

Sunday, August 9, 2009

April vs. April

My mind is scattered today so this will most likely be all over the place as well…

Yesterday was Epic Fail.

I didn't go to WW.

I didn't do anything social yesterday. And it was a beautiful day.

I ate sausage and ice cream and loafed around. I didn't even scrapbook. Totally wasted my day.

I saw my “friend” last night. He choose the most awkward time to tell me he loved me. In my head I was like oh god why are you ruining this for me? But I just smiled my sexy smile and kissed him. But he loves me? He doesn’t. We are so not meant to be. He’s older. Has kids, one of whom is a little bitch, and doesn’t want more. I can’t say that I blame him. Also frankly, I think that he might be a little bit, well, gay. And don’t get me wrong. I loooooove the gays. I am a hag from way back. [My motto is that every straight girl needs a gay boyfriend] But I like my gays out and proud. Not closeted and having sex with me. Sorry. I’m funny like that. So April, if you think he’s gay, why do you even bother? Well smarty pants, voice in my head, I don’t know.

SPVIMH: Yes you do.

Me: No, I don’t.

SPVIMH: Yeah. You do.

Me: No…well ok listen. Here is the thing. I’m lonely. I am sad and lonely. He is available.

Love of my life—is with his wife.

Could have worked in a pinch—is just gone.

New guy full of promise—is MIA.

So yeah, older guy with gay tendencies is available and here. And sweet and funny. He’s better than being all-alone, which frankly I could not have handled last night.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. My level of loneliness is pretty high. I am lonely. I mean so lonely that it actually physically hurts. Sure, I have friends. All of who are married with children, or with someone or are single parents and therefore busy. That just leaves… me.

The interesting flip side of this is despite the loneliness; I can’t seem to muster up the energy to go out with the people who are available to me. I am supposed to meet a friend for potluck dinner in the park tomorrow. It sounds nice doesn’t it? And there is a part of me that wants to go, but there is still another part of me that just wants to hole up and stay home in bed with a book and my cat. [God that sounds pathetic doesn’t it?] I hear myself say those things and wonder what my problem is? Why am I this way? I have my theories of course. Not of which matter cause I’ve cloistered myself in the house with my books, my cat and my computer.

SPVIMH: Pull yourself together girl.

Me: I’m trying.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Depression and Drugs

I stopped taking both my ADHD and anti-depressant meds about a month ago. Why? Well I think the combination of meds was having a weird effect on me. The ADHD stuff especially. I was crashing. I would sleep all night long, wake up tired, sleep on my commute, be tired all day at work, sleep on my commute home and pass out when I got home. Also, I remember going to see my sister and her kids, something that I LOVE to do, and I slept all weekend. She was pissed and told me that it was like being with a junkie. The thing is that I had been feeling that way myself for while. And thinking to myself that this cannot be good to feel this "tired" all the time. So I stopped. Cold turkey. That was about 4 weeks ago I think. And for the first 3 weeks or so I was fine. But not anymore. The depression is creeping up on me. One of the reasons I was taking anti depressants in the first place, was because I was feeling everything too much. Something would touch me or make me sad, and it would send me into a tailspin. I would see a commercial on TV that was the least bit touching and I would just become inconsolable. I hated that feeling. I had no control over myself. Hence the drugs.

I really thought I was fine; maybe I’ve licked this thing. But then recently, a friend of mine asked me about my ex-boyfriend and I got all weepy. I was reading a book Shelter Me, [which I recommend by the way] and there are some moments of sadness in there, but there were moments when I had to put the book down, because I could feel myself getting upset. I know that it’s good to feel things. But I am also very aware that I am not someone who is able to control herself once she gets started. I remember seeing Forrest Gump in the movies (many many moons ago) and for some reason, at the end of that movie I cried for at least an hour. I KNEW it was weird, but I couldn't help it. Something about seeing things that are touching, or sad just sets me off in a way that is just not normal.

The problem is that I kind of hate my psychiatrist. He’s kind of a drug pushing, douche bag. I just feel like sure he should be dispensing drugs and most times that’s all I wanted from him. But I remember that one time, I started to talk about something and he offered me a referral to someone for the therapy part. WTF? Dude I PAY you. My insurance PAYS you. So while yes, most times I just want to be in an out sometimes you might actually have to talk to me. That’s your JOB! Isn’t it? Now I’m thinking about this while I write. Is he not supposed to talk to me? Is that not what he is there for? Maybe he is supposed to be a pill dispenser and that I should find myself a Therapist or something. Great…something NEW to think about.

Today is Saturday. I’m going to WW and see what kind of damage I did this week. I know that I haven’t been measuring or even keep track of what I’ve been eating. I think I need my ass kicked!

I was supposed to be social last night. Totally bailed out. I can rationalize all I want and say that well it was late and I was broke. True. But I haven’t seen this friend of mine in a long time and I should have just gone to say hi. Even if I left an hour later. I’m supposed to go to the park this afternoon with a co-worker/friend of mine for a concert. Right now, its looking like I want to stay home and in bed. But we are pushing right?

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Hair Obsessed...

Me and my hair… I have curly hair. For those who follow such things, I guess it can be categorized as 3C/4A.

I remember being about 13-14 years old and begging, BEGGING my mom to have my hair relaxed. I wanted to swing it and fling it! I would spend hours and hours blow drying it, frying it, dyeing it and straightening it, ironing it and rolling it.

In my late 20’s, after years of abusing my hair, I decided that I had just had enough of the following:

The damage and the cost and endless hours holed up in a crowed hair salon;

The weekly visits to the Dominicans-- Himamiwhyyougonnadotoday?

The ever present,“Mamiyouneedatrim”! (Then sit open mouthed and paralyzed with shock as they proceeded to hack half my shit off!);

The watching with fascination and horror at the smoke coming from the top of my head while being blow dried;

The cringing at the burning sensation from the relaxer and finally;

The holding of my breath at the toxic/rotten egg smell.

I was ready to stop cursing the rain and the damn humidity of summer...debating on whether or not I was going to go swimming... waking up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday to be first on the line... the cursing at myself for forgetting the wrap pins and having to pay 3 dollars for 20 pins when I had about 200 at home. Having to wrap my hair every night wasn’t the most fun either. Finally I would love my hair and learn to love, accept and express myself.

I was ready, to go natural! I knew what I was up against. I knew my mother would not understand. This was the same woman who told me, after I complained about inheriting her prematurely grey hair that I had to continue to color my hair. Because “you aren’t even married yet” Letting me know right away that if I let my gray hair come in that I would be destined to life of an old maid. My family did not take my decision to go natural very well. My grandmother very clearly asked me, why I had stopped combing it? My mother was certain that I would never meet a man with “that head of hair’.

But I persevered! It took a while. And the road has not been an easy one. The growing out process is not pretty.

I even turned to a support group type of website for curly haired folks. Me: Hello my name is April and I have curly hair. Support Group: hi April. Welcome! And it turned out that I was NOT ready for what I got. Who knew that there would be all these options:

To “Poo” or to “No Poo”?

To trim every 6 to 8 weeks or trim every 6 to 8 months?

To never ever blow out again?

To live life curly forever?

So no, I was not ready for what I got. I thought I would be able to bounce out of bed… hello? I’m natural why not? Yeah nobody told me. Let me tell you what I got... I got hair that has a mind of its own... I got hair that is never ever the same two days in a row...

And to be honest I still curse the damn humidity. If I don’t have just the right amount of product in my hair, my hair is fuzzy and frizzy. That's not sexy... Under all this hair--- is a sexy girl... I'm telling you...

I was not ready for so many things. I wasn’t ready to explain to The Dominicans that I don't use shampoo anymore... having to explain to the curly hair freaks that sometimes I LIKE straight hair... having to explain to my grandmother that my hair IS combed... Telling random people who don't know me who insist on touching my hair that NO they can't touch my hair... It happens way more that you think!!! And the reason you can’t touch my hair, you freak, is because I don’t know you. Hello? Realizing that no matter what... I will leave the house with a semi wet head... everyday--- even in the winter... that my hat days a pretty much over...

However, I accepted it and was fine. Until...

I let some boot-leg-run-of-the-mill-local-yokul ‘beauty parlor” color my hair. The process proved to be much too harsh and it just relaxed my hair. I mean my hair was about as straight as you can get.

That was in September 2008. After letting it grow out a little, I finally did a big chop on June 25, 2009. Best thing I ever did! The Hair journey starts once again...

Hair: routine!

I thought I would share my routine with people. I also participate on the website A lot of people there have asked me about my routine, so I wrote it out.

I normally use Devachan products, but have found also found that occasionally using other products makes the Deva stuff work even better.

I use the No Poo once every other week. Use the same way you would use any other shampoo. Follow with the One Condition (OC). (Regardless of weather or not I use Deva, I NEVER EVER use shampoo. Shampoo makes my hair seize.)

I use "co wash" with the OC every other day, normally I only use my fingers to comb though--- sometimes but rarely do I use a wide tooth comb. (I find that it breaks up the curl; but if you feel like your hair is too tightly coiled, you might want to do this) I suggest that people try both methods and figure out which works best for them.

Rinse your completely. Wring out hair to get rid of the excess water. Use either a 100% cotton t-shirt or paper towels to dry your hair

Work a little of the OC through out the hair. (If you part your hair, use your fingers.) Spray the Set it Free (SIF) in your hair. (I tend to start at the bottom and work my way through my hair and up to the top)

Then srunch, srunch, srunch!

If time permits; I use a diffuser or hood dryer (Clearly a weekend luxury)

When it's dry, I shake my head and fluff!
 Depending on how it dries (air dry or dryer) it takes any where from 1 1/2 hours to 30 minutes to dry.

On non-wash days, I use the Mister Right (MR) on non wash days. I spray it the way that I spray the SIF. Start at the bottom and work up to the top.

I am pretty careful when it comes to gels. I mix my gel with some conditioner. I don’t use mousse, also just to drying for my hair.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Time Time Time

I work with a lot of people who are younger than me. I mean, people born in the late 80’s young. People who when I say hey remember this or that…I get the blank stare. Eh… it happens. I remember when I was the young person on the job. Anyway, the reason that I mention that is because I was contemplating my life and where and what I thought I would be doing by now. Right around that time I found Olivia’s blog and she was talking about the same thing…and for no reason at all The Bangles version of the Simon and Garfunkel song, “Hazy Shade of Winter popped into my head. For those who have no idea what I am talking about, or just want to stroll down memory lane with me, here are the lyrics.

Time, time, time. See what’s become of me…
Time, time, time. See what’s become of me, while I looked around, for my possibilities.
I was so hard to please.
Look around leaves are brown and the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Hear the Salvation Army band;
Down by the riverside it’s bound to be a better ride than what you’ve got planned…
Carry a cup in your hand.
Look around leaves are brown and the sky is a hazy shade of winter. Hang on to your hopes my friend; That’s an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away;
Simply pretend…That you can build them again.
Look around grass is high, fields are ripe, it’s the springtime of my life. Seasons change with the scenery;Weaving time in a tapestry;Won’t you stop and remember me? Look around leaves are brown and the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Look around leaves are brown, there’s a patch of snow on the ground.
While I am not exactly sure what I would be doing, I know that never in a million years did I think that by the time I was knocking on forty, (gasp!) that I would be here, like this; Overweight, under-educated and lonel. What exactly has become of me? What happened to all my possibilities? I hate to have such a pity party for myself, because I have some wonderful moments। I laugh a lot. I have a wonderful family (they drive me nuts—but I love them!) great friends and have had love in my life. But I thought I would be living this fabulous life. Traveling and living La vie bohème. Instead I’m just here, like this, always wishing that I could truly say that I have been there and done that. It just seems to me, every one else is doing better than I am। (Logically, I know that is not true. But...) They have jobs they like, relationships that are satisfying; they go to interesting far away places and I feel the green monster come up in side of me. I hate myself for that. The reason that I am here, like this, is me. I was afraid to be better and do better so I did nothing. Therefore nothing happened. Hardly rocket science.
Today I spoke to a young girl who works at my job, I’ve known this kid for a while now. I see so much of myself in her. She just seems like someone who needs a push… a push to get out of the neighborhood she lives in; a push to be who she is meant to be; a push to get away from her parents-- who seem to count on her for everything. My parents did and do that to me. Hell, my whole family does that to me. Need ANYTHING? Have a problem? Call April. I am the person who gets things done for everyone else.
While I am. Still. Just. Here. Thinking about the possibilities.

How it all went down today:

Social Today: Yes! Lunch with a different co-worker, than yesterday
Mood Today: Flowed for the most part! Food Today: Not so good.
Menu Today:

Breakfast: Coffee, drop of light cream and some 2%milk and 2 Splendas and a hand full of honey oat wheat pretzels

Lunch: 3 Samosas (Epic fail!)

Dinner: No clue. (If last night’s dinner was any indication that IS my problem)

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

WTF moments…

WTF moments…

One of the reasons that I wanted to keep a blog, is because of all the random thoughts that go through my head. I constantly see things and wonder what the fuck?

Perfect example…

This morning I saw a man putting on deodorant while on the train platform. WTF? This man looked normal enough, sort of your average white guy. He was wearing work appropriate pants they were blue or black I think. A white long sleeved dress shirt that was open, I guess for easy armpit access, with a plain white t shirt (wife beater variety) underneath. As someone who has stood/sat next too many a stinky person while riding on the subway, I appreciate his efforts.

However, I am wondering what would possess someone one to do this at the Union Square train station at the height of morning rush hour. I mean I’ve occasionally forgotten to put deodorant on, but I usually just pick some up at the local Duane Reade and apply it in the privacy of my bathroom stall.

I posted my observation on my face book page and got many interesting responses. Many people concurred that these things only happen to me. I have to agree with that assessment I feel like I am the only person who sees crazy shit. One or two wished for such “excitement”. A friend of mine decided what MUST have happened was the following:

“ He got up and went to put some on but realized it finished yesterday and he forgot to pick some up SO on his way to work today, he stopped at one of those Duane Reade’s that are in or near the train station to buy one. But he didn't want to miss his train so he ran to the platform where he proceeded to administer the daily dose of stank protection!”

Someone else decided that he was well mannered and wise for not being in this hellish weather sans deodorant for more than a minute. They also praised his momma. Another friend of mine wanted to know how that was different than women who apply their make up while on the train. I am guilty of this, so I don’t think it’s the same at all! Arm pits are just disgusting in general. Applying lipstick and applying your speed stick to your hairy pit; are totally different.

I have had many many moments WTF moments:

  • I once saw a women give her self a pedicure. I mean she was going to town, clipping and filing. This was followed by base coat, polish and a top coat.
  • I once saw a man take out his dentures, apply more denture adhesive and place his teeth back in his mouth. If that was not bad enough, he wiped the excess denture goo on a pillar.
  • There was also the guy who flossed his teeth for about 5 minutes and tossed the floss to the ground when he was done.
  • My personal favorite the man that was cleaning his ears, avec a q-tip.
  • On my way out of a store, there were three men who pushed past me to get out first. They literally let the door slam in my face.

    I really could go on…but I won't.

This is how it all went down today:

Social Today: Yes! Lunch with a co-worker.

Mood Today: It ebbed and it flowed.

Food Today: Not too bad. Not really measuring or counting points but I didn’t go crazy.

Menu Today:
Coffee, drop of light cream and some 2%milk and 3 splenda
Oatmeal with raisins and 1 tablespoon of maple syrup.

Cup of chicken noodle soup
½ Turkey wrap (sans condiments)

No clue. (maybe that’s a part of my problem! Lack of planning)

Monday, August 3, 2009

Fatty McFaterson strikes again!

Epic fail. Epic Epic fail. I went to WW this past weekend and while I knew I had gained. I was not fully prepared for how much. Almost 5 lbs. 5! WTF? The thing is that I am not surprised. I am just at this place in my life where I don’t know what do about it? What do I do about it?

I went to the informational session last week, for biatric surgery. That as I said, it was probably one of the saddest things I have ever seen. All the people so desperate for an answer a solution anything! My issue, and it’s not a new issue, but my issue is feeling like the surgery won’t be the answer that I am looking for. It would solve the fact that I am always ready to eat something. Even if I’m NOT hungry. What IS that about?

Clearly I am a food addicted person. But what do I do my addiction. I can’t go into rehab for it. I cant’ stop eating all together can I? I was talking about this with a friend of mine. The thing is the food, for me, is really a great joy in my life. While all at the same time being the thing that will ultimtely destroy me if I let it. Sounds dramatic I know. But honestly, that’s how I feel. If I don’t get this under control, it will be my undoing. And I know it.

Weight loss has been on my mind for way to fucking long...

This is a blog that I wrote for my myspace blog. (Remember myspace?) I wrote it at the beginning of the year in 2008.

With the start of the New Year, I've been thinking a lot about who I am and what I want to change about me. One of the main things that has come to mind are physical changes that I would like to see take place in me for 2008.

I've been a big girl for a long time. Granted, never as big as I am now, but I was always a full figured girl. Sure, I struggled with my weight. It's been up and down and while I did think a lot about it, it is safe to say that, most days, my weight usually did not cause me to feel bad about myself. Sure I was big, but, honey, I was sexy. I had sexy hair, sexy lips, great smile, awesome personality etc. Big, juicy, sexy girls not for you? That was ok. My attitude was, if you didn't like girls who looked like me, you could look elsewhere. And while you were at it, kindly move out of the way, as you were most likely standing in front of someone who was trying get a peek at me! Not to mention that I had always dated men who told me that they thought I was beautiful and desirable. Having said that, let the record show that I am NOT a fan of Chubby Chasers (men who only date fat chicks) I'm sure I'll write a little something about that soon enough.

Over the past several months I've gained a lot weight, and the additional weight has made me tired! As a matter of fact, I'm tired all the time, all I seem to want to do is sleep. I get home from work and feel like I have been digging a ditch all day. I just want to pass out. And my Lord, I am cranky! I had conversation with a friend a while back and I expressed all the things I've been feeling: Angry, Cranky, Sad, Depressed, Annoyed etc. She asked me what you are doing about this. I thought about it and answered: Eating.

What IS that? Could it be that food is my drug of choice? Am I being dramatic? Is that not overstating it? Maybe, but Over Eaters Anonymous exists for reason. Why is this the way my unhappiness manifests itself? One would like to think, that when I tried on a pair of pants that definitely fit me last year, but some how don't fit me this year, I would be inspired to go to the gym that I joined in July and take a walk on the treadmill. But it doesn't. Why doesn't it? Why is my reaction to go get a cupcake instead? I have not a clue. I remember when I found out that my ex-boyfriend committed the ultimate act of betrayal. Did I cry? Yep, sure did, while eating a pint of ice cream.

To anyone who thinks that I'm lazy, I assure you that I am not. To anyone who thinks that all I need to do is to get my shit together, I wish I could just do that. I wish it was just that easy. It isn't. Not for me anyway.

To answer the unasked question, Yes, I've thought of biratic surgery. Here are the cons:

  1. I might get bobble head syndrome (Take a gander at Star Jones---she is a hot a mess)
  2. I would most likely need a body lift because of the excess skin (sounds sexy doesn't it?)
  3. It wouldn't help me with the problem I clearly have with food.
  4. It doesn't always work long term. (Take a peek at Carnie Wilson)
  5. I might die! it's a pretty risky operation

I might die! It's a pretty risky operation.

So I don't want GP? Ok then, go on a diet, and go to the gym. Etc etc. These are things that I have done before, with great success. But lately, I have not had any motivation. None. What so ever. The question is: Why not? Why am I not caring enough about myself to make better choices? Again, I have no idea.

By no means am I apologizing for who I am. There are many good things about me. I am just owning up to an issue that I have and am trying really hard to figure out what I should do about it. It just seems to me that a brand new year seems like an auspicious occasion for a fresh start and some introspection.